Double Entendre

As the sickness slowly comes to an end, and the feasting resumes normal speed, things are getting back to normal. Cherry bakewells have taken pride of place in the breadbin (and beside the bed) and the condiment shelf of the fridge is positively blooming. My head has accepted my body's state and is excited about my new playmate.

And now the day has arrived when I have cold jelly smeared on lower parts inorder to see the beast within (no, not my birthday) scan day at the hospital. There are coy smiles and jolly small talk with the sonographer, dreamy looks and talks of bunnies, clouds and the warm weather we're having. UNTIL... he drops into to conversation as he is rubbing his rubby thing over my belly, he quietly says 'so Mrs Davies, how many babies were you expecting to see here today?'
I beg your pardon? I glance desperately at the poor shadow of a man who only seconds before used to be my husband, how many?
'Well, it seems to be you are expecting twins!'
What the F*&%$*, F*&$%, S*&%*?
I'm sorry, what did you say? Are you sure? I have been eating a large amount of Haribo jelly snakes, do you think they could have moulded together to form a fetus look-a-like?

No, it seems that there is no mistake, and due to my age (early-ish thirties) and my Amazonian stature, I am more at risk to conceiving twins. Then, I scream (albeit inwardly) why was I not informed of this elevated risk about 10 weeks ago???? Huh! If so, I may have kept a bigger bat by the side of my bed!

Well, what do you know eh? Two little me's, how exciting.
As for Mr D, he has since been mute with shock and can only mutter the words 'daddy's run off with the circus!' in between glugs of wine from the bottle.